


The Collections 2017

by Khalehla



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Arsenal FC, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, German National Team, Humor, Implied M/M/M, International Break, Jogi is 100 percent DONE, Just silliness all 'round, M/M, Obliviousness, Requited Unrequited Love, Tumblr reposts, and so is the rest of Team Management, backstories and behind-the-scenes, except sometimes Olli is down for some shenanigans, fic requests, these guys ship themselves sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 12,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: A random collection of mini-fics, outtakes, back stories and other reposts from Tumblr in 2017. Pairings (if any) and ratings will vary.16. Neumer17. RobCal18. RobCal





	1. Dads (Hömmels)

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these fics are backstories and/or ideas behind my "main" stories, so may not make sense on their own. I'll link them to the universes/storylines as needed, so that it is hopefully not too confusing.
> 
> Any pairings will also go on the title so you can skip if you wish to.  
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mats and Bene are sniping at each other and the kids are concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr request by [Anon](https://skribblings.tumblr.com/post/155845722213/i-was-wondering-if-you-could-do-something-based).

It’s only a little thing, but the tension is so thick that the few younger players are watching Mats and Benedikt snap and snipe at each other with growing worry.

It’s only the first second day of break - meaning actually only first day of training - so it’s much too early for any sort of conflict to have developed already, but here they are witnessing the normally even tempered Schalke captain shoulder bump his fellow defender out of the way while they gather their elastic bands for warm up. And it’s not even a friendly ‘hey there’ shoulder bump either, it’s a full on ‘you’re in my way, asshole’ type of body check. Mats looks furious, but somehow manages to stop from retaliating (most likely because Jogi is standing right there and had seen Benedikt’s little moment).

“I honestly thought Mats was going to push him back,” Joshua says worriedly after warm-ups when they’re all separating into groups.

“Mats would never do that,” Ju Weigl disagrees, “not to Bene.”

“Normally I’d agree with you,” Joshua says, “but he looked really stressed.”

“That’s because we arrived late last night and they didn’t get to say hello properly,” Max shrugs. “They just need to bang and they’ll be all good again.”

“ _Ew_ , dude, how can you say that?” Julian Brandt complains. “They’re like our dads!”

Max looks at Julian Brandt in confusion. “Well yeah; that’s how I know he just needs to get laid. It’s always like this when he and Mats haven’t seen in each other in a while.”

“Mats used to get so grumpy when he was still with us,” Ju Weigl says, nodding. “He yelled at Erik once for throwing his towel on the floor after training.”

“Oh, is that why he’s been telling me off for being “a slob” with my clothes?” Joshua asks. “I’ll remember that next time we’ve gone more than a month between breaks.”

“You think that’s bad, wait until they’ve had a bad derby day” Jule Draxler says, overhearing them. “Remember that time when Mats and Bene went at each other during a game? _Yeesh._ You should have been in the locker room after the game - I’ve never seen everyone shower and change so quickly.”

“That was a bad, bad time,” Max agrees, nodding. “I’m so glad you got Erik to force Mats to visit afterwards. I honestly couldn’t survive the whole week like that.”

“They were getting it bad, too,” Jule Draxler shrugs. “It was in everyone’s best interest just to have them fuck it out already.”

“Are you guys gossiping again?” Jonas says when he and Shkodran walk past and notices them all standing there.

“We’re not gossiping,” Ju Weigl says indignantly, “we’re just concerned about Mats and Bene.”

Jonas rolls his eyes, looking at Mats and Benedikt standing very tensely next to each other as they wait for Thomas and Marcus to give them their instructions. “Mom and dad really just need to bang already. I hate when they get like this, it’s so awkward.”

“Did you really just call Mats and Bene ‘mom and dad’?” Shkodran asks, laughing lightly.

“Well aren’t they?”

“Actually now that you mention it, Bene is such a mom, isn’t he?”

“Not that that’s a bad thing,” Max interjects, defending his club captain.

“Of course not,” Jonas smiles. “And don’t worry, I’m going to swap with Bene so that he and Mats are sharing as usual; that way mom and dad can just get it on and we can all stop tiptoeing around them already.”

“You’re such a good son,” Shkodran laughs again. “I swear, you even look like them.”

“Oh my God, Musti, you’re right!” Joshua says excitedly. “Jonas, you’re Mats and Bene’s love child!”

Everyone laughs at this too, and Jonas rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, yeah,” he says good-naturedly. “Let’s go guys, before the lasers Mats is trying to shoot at us with his eyes actually happen.”

“Wanna make a bet on how many hickies Bene’s going to have tomorrow morning?” Max asks quietly.

“Not that many,” Jule Draxler says. “He’s really pissed; it’ll be Mats walking funny tomorrow.”

“ _Ew_ guys, _stop_ ,” Julian Brandt complains again. “I really don’t want to picture the dads like that anymore.”

“At least you never caught them; this one time, me, Leon and Jule wanted to take Bene out and we went over to his house coz Jule has spare keys and yeah… Mats has a surprisingly toned ass,” Max says, coming up to Julian Brandt and ignoring his teammate’s _ews_ while trying to move away from him. “But what really surprised us was that Bene has this _thing_ and it was bright pink and…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jonas really _is_ Mats and Bene's love child. Not convinced? [Read this.](https://khalehla-blah.tumblr.com/post/148486608663/psst-dont-you-reckon-if-you-morphed-hummels-and)
> 
> Side-reference to the _thing_ can be read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7250728/chapters/19923763).


	2. Hiding places (Steno, Götzeus, implied Samisut, Hömmels, Ju&Jo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernd develops a reputation. 
> 
> An outtake/backstory to [Bernd Leno, secret exhibitionist](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8204710/chapters/18796546).

Marc-André discovers that their secret is not quite secret as he thinks it is over a series of events, the first being when Mario walks up to Bernd after training one day.

“We’ve just been so busy and I completely forgot.” Mario looks stressed, and he isn’t even bothering to keep his voice low as he says, “I need suggestions for Thursday night - after the first friendly - for something low-key but it also has to be special. You know how Marco is, he doesn’t like making a big fuss, but it’s his one year anniversary since he got called to the national team again and I know it’s actually a big deal for him to be back and not injured for so long.”

“South garden behind the volleyball court," Bernd says without batting an eyelash at Mario’s rather bizarre request. "There’s an alcove there that’s surrounded by trees and you can’t see into from the hotel; it’s perfect if you wanna use candles.” 

Marc thinks he knows which alcove Bernd is talking about because they'd happened to be involved in a heated make-out session there two days ago after a particularly invigorating training session in which he and Bernd had spent the whole afternoon trying to outdo each other and they'd had some _ehem_ excess energy they needed to burn off in a rather pleasant way.

“Thanks bro,” Mario says, relieved. “I knew you’d have a couple of ideas. What do you think are my chances of getting my hands on bubbly?”

As the two friends walk off discussing the logistics of alcohol and possibly a cheese platter, Marc just looks after them, blinking, not really knowing exactly Mario meant by “knowing” Bernd had “a couple of ideas.”

The next clue is Mario again.

“I need… 20 minutes,” the forward says breathlessly, grabbing Bernd by the shoulders and practically shaking him.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Bernd tips his head to the side. “There’s a room behind the suites they set up for our training room - single door, not double doors - that’s got chairs stacked in there. I’m pretty sure they only use the chairs for weddings and stuff and we’ve booked out all the rooms in the hotel so you should be safe.”

Mario actually kisses Bernd on the cheek. “Thanks man, you’re the best.”

Marc stares in bewilderment as Mario runs off, presumably to look for Marco so they can make use of the room. He turns slowly to the Leverkusen keeper. “What was that about?”

“I found it on the second day,” Bernd shrugs, also walking off.

Marc waits a couple of minutes to make sure he’s not blushing obviously before looking for someone to thrash at pool.

Mats walks up to them halfway through the next international break.

“So I have a hypothetical question that I hope you can help me with,” the tall defender says to Bernd as they’re collecting their warm up gear.

Bernd hitches up an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“If I were to hypothetically set up a romantic dinner for two in a couple of days time, what would you suggest would be a good location for this hypothetical date?”

“I would suggest kicking Manu out of his room because he has a balcony that overlooks the lake and that you can’t see from the main side of the hotel,” Bernd responds. “Hypothetically.”

“That’s a very good hypothetical suggestion,” Mats nods, before taking his elastic bands to warm up with Benedikt.

“You know Manu’s going to hate you for making that hypothetical suggestion, right?” Marc asks as they join the first choice keeper with Andi.

To Marc’s surprise, Bernd cackles.

“It’s revenge for the salt-sugar swap,” the Leverkusen keeper grins.

“So does that mean he actually doesn’t have a balcony in his room?”

“Of course he does; I noticed in two days ago when we were in the garden.”

 _Of course_ , Marc thinks, blushing to the roots of his hair.

After Sami (of all people) rather shyly asks Bernd suggestions for “a quiet picnic”, Marc-André has pretty much figured out what’s going on.

“What the hell?” he asks Bernd when Sami’s out of hearing range. “Did he seriously just ask you that?”

“I know,” Bernd nods. “I should start charging people. It’s not easy finding those places and then just giving them up like that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Marc says, flabbergasted.

“Don’t worry, I always keep two or three to myself,” Bernd tries to reassure him.

Marc isn’t even surprised at the inevitable blush crawling up his neck anymore.

It's not long before it seems everyone knows that if you need a place for “uninterrupted alone time”, the Leverkusen keeper is the person to consult with. When Joshua comes up to them on the bus back to the hotel after they win a tough qualifier against Belgium, Bernd simply asks, “when, what time, how long?”

“Tomorrow night,” the young defender responds without skipping a beat. “As long as possible. Nothing fancy, just private.”

“We have movie night tomorrow night; what’s the point in sneaking out on movie night when no-one’s going to care what you do?”

“That’s a good point; the night after? At least 2 hours?”

Marc surprises everyone by saying, “conference room, second floor - there’s a small meeting room off it that’s got a couple of chairs. You can hear anyone coming from a mile off because of the wood floors.”

“Thanks,” Joshua breathes, quietly going back to his seat.

Bernd slowly turns to give Marc an amused look. “Really?”

“What?” Marc says as nonchalant as possible. “I found it on the second day.”

Bernd smirks. “That’s the spirit.”

Marc just rolls his eyes at him.

Naturally, Bernd’s reputation as “Finder of Secluded But Slightly Public Make-out Places For The Secret Exhibitionist” spreads, and not a break goes past without at least one person asking for suggestions.

“You’d think they’d make an effort to find those spots themselves,” Marc grumbles one day when they’re two-thirds of the way through break and they’re already had to give up four secret spots.

“It’s the first break of the year and nearly Valentines,” Bernd points out. “It’s only natural the number of requests go up at this time of the year.”

“True,” Marc concedes begrudgingly. “But I really liked that garden.”

“I’ll find another one,” Bernd offers.

Marc just grumbles some more.

Jogi orders them to stay back after training halfway through the next break, and he looks _furious_. Uh-oh.

“If I catch anymore people having “alone time” in my office or the training rooms, I will hold you both personally responsible!” the senior trainer all but threatens them.

Marc and Bernd exchange frightened looks. “Okay?”

“And for goodness sakes, the pantry is not a suitable place for any form of physical affection - has no-one heard of hygiene?” Jogi demands.

“Ehhh…” Marc says, because he can’t for the life of him remember if they suggested the pantry to anyone.

“[Rule number 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9680759) is there for a reason,” Jogi reminds them, still on his rant. “Private! PRIVATE. _Not_ public! Understood?”

“Yes coach,” they both mumble contritely, hurrying away as soon as they’re dismissed.

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know about the garden below his balcony,” Marc says as they head back. “Bene would be so disappointed if we had to tell him they can’t use it anymore.”

Bernd gives him an incredulous look, then bursts out laughing. “That’s my boy,” he says, clearly pleased.

Marc’s blush hasn’t gone down yet when they join the rest of their teammates for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a PSA:
> 
> I'll be taking a month-long hiatus from posting because of the [non VDay writing challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/nonVDay2017) that I'm hosting and submitting a few entries to. 
> 
> Come say hello :) and if you find that you want to participate, I'd be absolutely _thrilled_ **:D**


	3. A different type of fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A _Paulo Dybala_ x reader fic (request)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A Tumblr repost](https://skribblings.tumblr.com/post/158102846238/so-i-dont-normally-write-these-type-of-reader-x)

Despite being a huge Juventus fan, stadium visits just aren’t my thing. For one thing, the chances of meeting any of the players are so small that I really don’t see the point why my friends are so excited.

“Stop being such a killjoy,” Nicole says, carefully folding the scarf she brought just in case she could get someone to sign it for her. “You’re going to hate yourself when we meet the players and you’ve got nothing on you.”

“I told you, I’ve done a stadium visit twice already and you’re nowhere near the players,” I tell her. “You’re getting excited for nothing.”

“Anna, stop,” Casey says. She brought Paulo’s jersey, and at least I could agree with her choice. “Don’t ruin this for us.”

I roll my eyes, then get onto the bus with the rest of my classmates. As expected, the tour is boring as watching paint dry and as long as a Lord of the Rings movie marathon.

(Okay maybe not that long, but it sure as hell feels like it.)

Today was now officially one of the worst days ever.

By the time the tour is almost over and we’re going to be let loose in the gift shop to spend our parents’ hard-earned cash, all I want to do is go to the bathroom and find the café so I can get myself a mocha. I’m about to just ditch everyone when all of a sudden there’s a commotion.

“Holy shit that’s Claudio Marchisio!” someone squeals, and everyone runs to the front of the shop to see. I go along, because, what the hell?

“Oh my _God,_ Anna, I _told_ you we’d meet them!” Nicole squeals in my ear.

Okay, so this is unexpected. When someone else yells “there’s Higuain!” I’m actually starting to feel regrets about not bringing anything. I eye up the jerseys in the store greedily and wonder how angry my parents will be if I buy another one without permission. I’m three seconds from taking out my wallet when we all get shepherded to the side by our teachers, carefully kept out of the way just in case one of us did something embarrassing like tackle one of the players to the ground. Or try to kiss them.

“You may only ask for an autograph _if_ they approach,” one of the teachers says sternly. “And if they say no, you _will_ be respectful and not ask anymore.”

Everyone who brought something to sign lines up expectantly, and Nicole and Casey give me smug looks. _I told you so!_ Nicole mouths to me, and I have to stop myself from giving her the finger while the teachers are around. I decide now is a good time to head to the bathroom.

I haven’t decided yet if I want the players to have come around so that Nicole and Casey got their autographs (hey, I’m a good friend), or hope that the players didn’t so that I wouldn’t have to put up with them being all smug and obnoxious on the bus trip back to school.

It ends up being a moot point because on the way back from the bathroom, I run into someone. Literally smack into them and fall on my ass. I want to die. How is my life such a clichéd drama? How can my day possibly get worse?

Apparently a little bit more, because even as I’m about to start mumbling apologies and hope to God that the person isn’t someone important who will report me for being a klutz (hey, I’ve had a bad past ten minutes, alright? It’s only normal that I’m overreacting a bit), a hand sticks itself out to help me up.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

I freeze. Because that voice is familiar. Very familiar. And I really don’t know if I’m hallucinating right now or if the person talking to me that I just crashed into is who I think it is. I gulp, take his hand, then look into very familiar eyes once I’m standing.

Well damn. If it isn’t Paulo Dybala, forward for Juventus and the player whose poster I currently have on my wall. I sigh, because _very smooth Anna, very smooth._

And Paulo, in person, he looks… nice. But frazzled. He keeps looking around the corner nervously, like he doesn’t know if he should be here or somewhere else. I want to hug him; he looks like such a  lost puppy.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I say, then, “Are you hiding?” because that is probably exactly what he’s doing.

Paulo startles, as though he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s cute. “Ehhh…”

Gosh; now he looks like a scared, lost puppy. He’s still cute, but now I kinda feel sorry for him; he looks so confused. “If you’re trying to hide, you should probably find a better hiding place right now, ‘cause those are all my classmates getting autographs and we’re all about to leave soon. They’re probably gonna be here in about a minute and they’re all gonna want your autograph, too.”

“Does that mean you want one?” he asks, face scrunching up.

I shrug. “Yeah, but I didn’t bring my jersey. If I knew we’d actually get to meet you guys, I would have brought a ton of stuff.”

He scrunches his face up even more, probably surprised at my answer. Poor guy. He must get fans asking him to sign their bras or something. I’m not like that, I have boundaries, thank-you-very-much, and hey, maybe Paulo will remember me as that girl who didn’t ask him to sign on her somewhere weird. That would be cool. We’d probably never ever meet again, but hey, at least I’d be memorable.

“Oh okay,” he says, then starts looking nervous again when the unmistakable sounds of excited students are getting closer. “I’m sorry I gotta go, and um sorry again. For bumping into you.”

I wave my hand at him. “I should have been paying attention. See you!”

He smiles at me hesitantly, then quickly walks past and around another corner.

I’m still standing there, stupid grin on my face when the rest of the class and teachers finally arrive.

“Why the hell are you smiling like an idiot?” Casey asks suspiciously, holding her jersey that, I am happy to say, is not signed. Hmm, so Paulo did manage to avoid everyone after all.

I smirk at her, but I don’t answer the question. “Did you get many signatures?” I ask instead.

“A couple!” Nicole says excitedly, holding her scarf to her chest. “But no Paulo though.”

“That’s a shame,” I say, trying not to grin again. “I guess he wasn’t there?”

“Oh he was,” Casey confirms, “but he was further away and didn’t stop for autographs; he looked like he needed to get somewhere else really quickly.”

 _Oh if only you knew,_ I think quite smugly.

I can tell Nicole and Casey are trying to figure out why the hell I keep smiling at them like that, but then we get gathered around so we can finally leave and head towards the bus. Just before we exit the building, a scary official looking person walks up to me, calling out “excuse me miss, but can I have a word?”

Nicole gives me the _what did you do now?_ look and I panic for a split second because really, I don’t know! The teachers look at me all worried, and that only makes me fidget worse.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask nervously.

Scary official frowns at me. “No, but I was asked to give you this.” He shoves a gift shop plastic bag into my hands, and I very eloquently say “ahhhh…”

Scary official huffs, clearly not impressed with my reaction. “It’s a gift, miss. I was asked to give it to you.” Then without another word, he strode back into the building.

“Ahhh…” I say again, blinking at everyone staring at me.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Nicole asks impatiently.

Since everyone including the teachers are staring at me, I open the gift bag, and almost faint when I see what’s inside. It’s a jersey with the number 21 on it’s back. It’s also signed.

“No way…” someone says in disbelief.

“Anna, how the hell?” Casey exclaims, and yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too.

“Is there anything else?” Nicole demands, trying to grab the bag off me to see what’s inside.

There _is_ something else; my tiny squeal is drowned out by even louder squeals from my classmates, because there’s an a4 sized photo of Paulo with a message on it, and I quickly shove the photo back into the bag when I read it.

“Oh my God, what did he write?” someone demands, but I ignore everyone and put the jersey back into the bag too.

“It’s private,” I say as calmly as possible, then make my way to the front where the teachers are watching me so we can get onto the bus. 

Because it _was_ private, you know. What happened between me and Paulo would stay between me and Paulo. He obviously had reasons to not stop for autographs, and I would respect his decision by not talking about meeting him. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the gift though.

I spend the whole bus back to school thinking about Paulo’s gift and ignoring everyone’s questions. I just wanted to really enjoy the moment. And if I’m being annoyingly smug about it and half my classmates hate me, so what? 

> Thank you for being so helpful, xoxo Paulo

Today was now officially the best day ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually write these type of first person reader fics, but I do try and write some type of stories at least once. I actually found it really difficult to write, and my friend pointed out that my reader was quite sassy and probably not to everyone's cup of tea. In the end I was mostly happy with it because she also said it's almost like I didn't write the fic, and I somehow managed to finish it without the main character sounding like a complete Mary Sue - which is astounding given the nature of most 1st person reader request fics.
> 
> I still love to take prompts and requests because they are really challenging, but I probably _won't_ do another one like this lol


	4. Choices (Steno)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr repost, set after the first leg of the UCL Leverkusen-Atletico game round of 16.

Marc-André has been standing at the door, clutching a set of keys in his hand trying to talk himself into leaving. He hadn’t meant to come, hell, he hadn’t even watched the game, but the score had been blinding and well, he was still feeling the low fire simmering in the pit of his stomach from Paris, and _God_ , being presented with nearly the most perfect way to burn off all the anger was just too hard to resist.

He knows sticking the key in the lock can go one of two ways, and the more likely scenario is that all that if he went ahead with this, there would be no guarantee he would walk away unscathed. Not anymore. They weren’t supposed to be doing this anymore, but sometimes old habits died hard and right now he’s not even sure if he has enough willpower to walk away.

He’s about to pocket the keys when the door swings open and he’s face to face with his almost twin, a combination of fury and surprise staring back at him. 

Marc-André blinks, then steps forward, closing the door firmly behind them.

-

By half-time he knew they were fucked. Conceding two at home was a mountain to overcome, even if they still won the game. But four at home? and losing? Forget it; they only had pride to play for in the second leg. 

God, he’d been so smug last week, knowing that though Atletico would be a hard match, at least they could do better than losing 4-0. Or so he’d thought. He doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to feel; the fact that the might Barcelona were getting eliminated so early in the tournament should have made him happy, but all he can feel is anger, guilt and helplessness and he just wants to _forget,_ and he happened to know that his favourite method of stress relief was actually in the country. 

But he knows that that’s dangerous thinking. They were supposed to be past this already, but Bernd knows that one text message and he wouldn’t be alone tonight, and all the excess negative energy could be put to use.

It’s so tempting, and he’d been staring at the phone clutched in his hand for the better part of ten minutes now, and he takes one last desperate attempt to not send the text by going for a walk first. Maybe the cool air will clear his head a little. 

He pockets his keys and phone and almost runs downstairs, yanking the front door to his apartment open to come face to face with his almost twin, a combination of fury and surprise staring back at him. 

Bernd blinks, then turns around to head back to his apartment. He hears the the door close firmly behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally submitted my assessment - yay! - and on time too despite having to change my entire topic four days ago because I couldn't find enough references to make the minimum requirement. So, go me! Oh and hey, international break coming up soon... :D


	5. Mario Götze and the art of the innocent face, pt 1 (implied Götzeus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was advantages of being a favourite and then scoring the winning goal in the finals of the World Cup therefore securing the fourth star on your country’s crest, and Mario Götze, because he never claimed to not be ruthless when he wanted something, knew exactly how to get what he wanted. And right now, Mario wanted to be roomed with Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **Eruditemonk** and **Meerschweinchen** who asked for the origin of the "Mario privileges" talked about in [Babe (v2.0).](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9174604/chapters/20828059)

There was advantages of being a favourite and then scoring the winning goal in the finals of the World Cup therefore securing the fourth star on your country’s crest, and Mario Götze, because he never claimed to not be ruthless when he wanted something, knew exactly how to get what he wanted. And right now, Mario wanted to be roomed with Marco.

Jogi had banned room-swapping a few international breaks ago when the hotel in Düsseldorf they were staying in had to evacuated due to a scare and everyone had forgotten [Rules #4 & 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9680759) and it had been absolute mayhem trying to explain to the hotel management why hardly anyone was staying in the actual rooms that they’d been allocated. Oliver had been _annoyed_ because he had to come up with a believable explanation, and an annoyed team manager meant no-one to stick up for them when Jogi inevitably caught them doing one or two (dozen) things they weren’t technically allowed to be doing. Hence the random roommates and everyone getting edgy, and because they actually did know how to obey a direct order when given to them, everyone had stuck to their own rooms.

But Mario thinks that two breaks was enough and he wanted to go back to the way they all were before. He’s pretty sure that Oliver really isn’t that annoyed at them anymore and is only enforcing Jogi’s “no room-swapping rule” to teach them a lesson, so this break, Mario is _prepared_.

 So armed with a combination of a sweet innocent face and a little gift that he knows Oliver would absolutely love (hey, he wasn’t eavesdropping on the management teams de-stress meeting okay? He just happened to walk pass and overheard the conversation!) Mario starts roaming the halls to look for their general manager as soon as dinner is over. He finds Oliver coming out of the rooms that Jogi and his other trainers had taken over as their office, and Mario bounds over.

“Oh perfect!” he says with the delicate balance of pleasure and conspiratorial. “Here’s someone I know who’ll appreciate the finer things in life!”

Oliver looks at him in confusion. “What?”

Mario takes the delicate box of chocolates out of his pocket. “Look what I have!” he opens it up and pops one of the bite sized treats into his mouth. “Man these are so good! You gotta try one.”

“Mario, are you offering me chocolate?”

“Not just any chocolate, artisan, hand-crafted liqueur chocolate!”

Oliver still looks confused. “Okay why?”

Mario gives the general manager the same confused look. “You don’t like chocolates?”

“I do, but why are you offering them to _me?_ Shouldn’t you be out socialising with the others?”

Mario knows he has to be careful now, because his plans will go to nothing if he doesn’t do this right.

He wrinkles his nose. “Do you know what the others said last time I brought some of this good stuff?”

Oliver shakes his head.

“ “Do you have any schnapps chocolates?”. Those plebians asked me if I had schnapps chocolates! I offer them some of the best whiskey chocolates in the world and they ask for _schnapps_. No class whatsoever!”

Mario shakes head, then says, “but you like whiskey, right? You appreciate how good it is, yeah?”

When Oliver's eyes narrow suspiciously, Mario wonders if he’s overdone it, but he never breaks eye contact or loses his confidence. He could do this, _needed_ to do this, and if winning a staring competition with the national team’s general manager would mean things would go back to normal, well then Mario would keep his eyes opened for as long as necessary, dammit. And that’s not all. His ‘I wouldn’t hurt a fly’ expression isn’t the only weapon in his armoury, thank you very much. He didn’t come all this way by being a one-trick pony.

After a minute, Mario sighs. Not dramatically. Just disappointed. He lets his shoulders slump ever so slightly, then he smiles and shrugs. “I guess you don’t like liqueur chocolates then; more for me I guess.”

Mario giggles, but he makes sure that the hurt of rejection comes out subtly so that Oliver will (hopefully) fall for his ‘hurt innocence’ act.

And it seems to be worth it in the end, because after a maintaining his most innocent half-smile, Oliver finally - slowly and painfully - softens. “Thank you Mario, but I, going to have to say no. I’m trying to keep to my strict diet, and those are definitely not plan-approved.”

Mario wants to fist pump in triumph, but instead he shrugs again. “Ugh, diet plans. I get you. You have more self-control than me. I can never say no to good artisan chocolate. Which is why I get these ones that are at least 80% cacao and are sugar free. I don’t want to feel _guilty_ , you know?”

Mario almost cheers when he notices Oliver’s expression almost become regretful about turning the chocolates down. Since he’s had his win, he knows it’s time for his tactical retreat, and says his casual goodbyes.

Two days later during tactical night, Mario rather strategically sits next to the general manager, spotting the spare seat and taking advantage of another opportunity to get on Oliver’s good side. Once the videos come on, he not-so-subtly makes sure Jogi’s not looking, then pulls the small bag of liqueur chocolates out of his pocket, popping one into his mouth then offering one to Oliver.

Oliver gives him a look, but takes one anyway. Mario inwardly crows in delight.

At the next international break, they all get caught room-card swapping in the hallway of their floor. Jogi simply sighs, then wordlessly goes into his room, tossing a casual “you deal with it” to Oliver.

The general manager gives Jogi’s back an exasperated look, growls at the rest of the management team who also hurry to their rooms without making eye contact, then stares at them all as they all stand frozen, waiting for him to react. Oliver looks heavenward, mutters “why me?” then ignores them all as he looks for his room.

Everyone gapes in disbelief that they didn’t all get yelled at.

Mario stands there with a smug expression, then takes the room-card from Bene and whistles as he head towards his and Marco’s room. His teammates all owed him. Big time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where Mario gets the idea of using sweets as a bartering commodity in the NT. The back story to how the privileges come about will be told in part 2.


	6. Tunnel scene (implied Krametzka)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max Meyer is a troublesome little shit and Bene needs to be applauded for being so patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A Tumblr repost](https://khalehla-blah.tumblr.com/post/158234412873/krametzka-its-so-cute-like-whenever-chris)

Max Meyer is wandering around the corridors humming to himself when he hears someone call out, “Psst! Psst! Max!”

He turns around and Johannes is standing at the doors to one of the tunnels leading out to the pitch and he’s waving at him almost frantically.

“What?” Max asks, coming closer.

“Look!” Johannes giggles, pointing outside. “It’s Leon and _lover boooooooooy._ ”

Max eyes widen when he realises that the other midfielder is right. He quickly takes out his phone and starts taking photos, zooming in to get as clear of a close up of Leon and Christoph as he can get.

“What are you doing?” Johannes asks.

“What do you think I’m doing? Taking photos.”

“You’re not supposed to take blackmail photos anymore. Bene said!”

“What Bene doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“Max! Do you want us to get in trouble again?”

“Geez Geis, stop being such a killjoy!”

Johannes gives him a look, then yells, “Beneeeeeeeeeeee!”

Benedikt, miraculously, pops his head around the corner five seconds later, Holger and Ralf with him. “You hollered?”

“Leon’s eye-fucking Christoph in the middle of the pitch.”

“And?”

“Max is taking blackmail photos.”

Max punches Johannes on the shoulder. “You tattle-tale!” he says indignantly.

The captain sighs at the young midfielder. “Max, we talked about this before. What did I say about not trying to embarrass your teammates by posting stuff on the group chat?”

“But I wasn’t planning on sending anything to the group chat!” Max protests.

“You weren’t?” Benedikt asks skeptically.

“Of course not,” Max huffs. “I was gonna wait until international break then post it then.”

Holger starts snorting while Benedikt stares at Max in disbelief. Ralf just laughs.

“Man and I thought being at Bayern was bad,” Holger chuckles. “Your kids here are just as bad.”

Benedikt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Believe it or not, they only got this bad once they started getting called up to the seniors on a regular basis.”

“I’m not surprised,” Holger laughs. “It’s been a while, but considering you’ve got Poldi, Mario and Mülli on the team, who knows what the kids are picking up. I’m honestly still in shock Jogi’s managed to hold out for so long - how does that guy still have any hair left? You’d think he’d have pulled it all out by now.”

“And that is the million euro question,” Benedikt sighs again. He turns back to Max and Johannes, ignoring the other two who are watching in amusement.

“Alright you two; that’s enough. Go back inside and behave yourself until they call us out. We’ll talk about this again later, but for now we have a game to play.”

“Why am I in trouble?” Johannes complains. “I wasn’t the one taking photos!”

“You’ve got to learn to stop enabling Max like that,” Benedikt says sternly. “I bet it was you who told him about Leon and Chris in the first place.”

Johannes gapes at his captain, then pouts. Max sticks his tongue out at him.

“Yeah I thought so,” Benedikt says. “Okay everyone, chop chop! Back to the change rooms now please.”

The two youngsters hurry back in, racing and trying to bump each other out of the way; Benedikt just looks upward in resignation.

“You want me to go get young Leon?” Ralf offers sympathetically.

Benedikt looks out the door to where he can see Leon and Christoph standing very close to each other, their postures relaxed, intimate. “No, let’s leave him alone. He knows what he’s doing, so if he gets any unwanted photos of them, that’ll be on him; I’ve done my bit by keeping Max away from him.”

“And really, hiking his pants leg up like that? He deserves all the teasing he’ll get,” Ralf laughs. “What was he thinking?”

Benedikt shrugs. “Honestly? Who knows? The fashions of the younger generation are a mystery to me.”


	7. Stubborn, stubborn (Steno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things are going really really, unbelievable well, Bernd sometimes forgets that Marc-André can be the most stubborn little shit ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the [Life in Colour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8137273/chapters/18651982) universe. A tumblr repost.

When things are going really really, unbelievable well, Bernd sometimes forgets that Marc-André can be the most stubborn little shit ever.

The day had been good, but very challenging. And even though he’d really enjoyed all the high adrenalin activities,he was glad to be back in the cabin so they could get some rest. Marc’s suggestion of a hot bath was brilliant, actually, and he was really looking forward to it.

Except when he finally gets there, Marc is standing in the bathroom, glaring at the tub.

“What’s going on?”

Marc points at the tub, looking seriously offended. “ _That_. Is not a bathtub.”

“Uh, yes it is.”

“For Nik and Lex, maybe. But _that_ is not big enough for both of us.”

“Well then I’ll just take a shower if you really want to take a bath.”

“No. We, are going to take a _bath_. Together.”

Bernd rolls his eyes. “You just pointed out we won’t fit.”

“We will. Somehow.”

“Seriously?”

“ _Yes_. We paid lots of money for a cabin with a tub and _dammit_ we’re gonna use it!”

“Marc, we’re millionaires. Unless you’ve somehow managed to spend all our money in the last couple of days since I logged into the bank, I’m sure we can afford it.”

Instead of answering, Marc just glares at the tub some more, then pointedly turns the taps on.

Bernd sighs, then goes to the kitchen to grab a couple of bottles of beer while they waited for the tub to fill. Honestly. Most stubborn shit, _ever_.


	8. Holding on to trust (Krametzka)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christoph sees the photos, but holds on to trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this Instagram photo](https://www.instagram.com/p/BVLQokIA5QB/?hl=en) and the [_Learning the game_](http://archiveofourown.org/series/468625) series by [Yyydelilah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yyydelilah/pseuds/Yyydelilah).
> 
> A tumblr repost

When the inevitable teasing from his friends come, Christoph ignores it. Or tries to, anyway. Because he knows how football is, how emotional it can get, and the pictures don’t bother him. Not really.

Christoph trusts Leon; they’re best friends as well as lovers, and they’ve been through too much for Christoph to jump to conclusions now. All those pictures that Leon’s been posting with Jule Brandt? Of them playing together, celebrating together, training together and spending their free time together? They’re nothing but photos. So what if they’d gotten much closer in the past few weeks leading up to the tournament? Tournaments were just like that - and he knew that from personally experiencing Brazil. 

So no, he’s not going to read anything into the _closeness_ so clear between the two midfielders. He’s going to ignore all the elbow nudging and concerned looks from friends. He’s going to pretend that his boy wasn’t being uncharacteristically handsy with other teammates. He’s not going to feel hurt every time it took a while for Leon to return his calls or texts, because tournaments were just like that.

So when Leon finally, _finally_ answers his call after the first win, Christoph swallows down his irritation when the second thing he hears after Leon’s “hey” is a familiar voice calling out “Leon, come on! Let’s go.”

Christoph closes his eyes for second, stamping down the irrational jealousy against his former club mate. “Congratulations,” he says in greeting, “you played well.”

“Thanks,” Leon laughs, “but coach wasn’t too happy. Said we got complacent at times; which is true I guess.”

“First game nerves,” Christoph points out wisely. “At least you won.”

“True, but-,”

Whatever it is Leon is going to say is cut off by Jule Brandt once again calling “come _on_ Leon!” and Christoph grits his teeth in irritation. Couldn’t Jule see that Leon was on the phone? 

To make matters worse, rather than Leon pointing out that he’s busy, he replies instead, “yeah yeah, give me second, okay?”

Christoph clenches his fist, because was Leon really going to cut off their first conversation in days to spend even more time with Jule?

“Chris, sorry I gotta go,” Leon says, not even sounding remotely apologetic. “The boys are waiting for me. Gotta go celebrate our first win, you know.”

Christoph does know, so he swallows the annoyance and tries to inject some support in his voice when he says “sure, go have fun.”

“Thanks babe, talk to you later.”

Christoph stares at his phone for a few lonely minutes, letting the hurt in his chest ebb out in its own time, silently chanting _he loves you, you trust him, you’re all good_  over and over in an effort to convince himself that there was nothing to worry about. It takes a while, but it eventually works, and Christoph can finally release the tension in his body. They’d been here before, but in the reverse situation, when it had been Christoph in Brazil and Leon at home, trying not to worry and give in to the jealousy. So he was going to trust, because what he and Leon had was worth it. It always was.


	9. Not so subtle invitations (Stark/Selke, implied Starke/Selke/Weiser)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The U21 win celebrations get a little heated for the Hertha players

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr report, inspired by [this Instagram post](https://www.instagram.com/p/BWATix1jxX0/?taken-by=nik.stark5&hl=en)

There’s a loud thunk as Niklas’ back hits the door much too hard, and he and Davie stare at each other, fear cutting through the alcohol and endorphin induced high. They freeze for a minute, waiting for someone to come in and see what the noise is all about, and when  no-one comes, Niklas drags Davie away from the door, then he fists his hand into the neck of Davie’s shirt and yanks him forward.

The kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue and noses mashing up against each other, but it’s also hot and perfect.

“ _Fuck_ I thought we were going to have to wait until we got back to the hotel,” Davie pants when they finally break for air.

“Are you kidding me?” Niklas asks, looking at his slightly taller teammate like he’s daft. “We’re going to end up celebrating the whole night if Max has anything to say about this - when did you think we were going to have time? When we’re too tired and wasted already to do anything?”

“Fair,” Davie concedes, leaning forward so that they’re kissing again. It’s just as sloppy as the earlier one, but now there are hands everywhere - Davie’s hands clawing into his back and Niklas own hands shoving down the back of his teammate’s pants. He cups Davie’s ass cheeks in his palms and tugs him forward so that they can grind into each other. Niklas is just about to reach around to the drawstrings of his own pants so that they can take this further, when the door handle jiggles open and Mitchell Weiser casually walks in, saying, “Hey Davie you there? You don’t happen to know where Nik is…”

Mitchell’s voice trails off when he finally realises that not only does Davie know exactly where Niklas is, Niklas happens to be _right there,_ pinned up against the wall. Mitchell gapes at them. “Oh!”

“Close the fucking door!” Niklas hisses, pulling his hands out of the back of Davie’s pants.

The defender shuts his mouth with a snap then quickly but quietly closes the door. For a moment they’re just all standing there, Mitchell gaping at them and he and Davie wondering how the hell to explain all this. When the awkward silence goes on for too long, Niklas sighs inward, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t getting any tonight, and he makes to push Davie away from him, but the forward just pins him gently in place. Niklas pushes back at Davie again, but the forward shakes his head, eyes never leaving Mitchell who’s still rooted in place by the door.

“Mitch,” Davie says in a low voice, “are you going to get your ass here and join us? Coz if you’re not, we’d appreciate it if you left us alone for a bit.”

Niklas inhales sharply and looks between Mitchell - who’s eyes seemed to have widened even more if that were possible - and Davie who’s own eyes are pinning the defender down like a butterfly to a board.

Niklas’ stomach clenches in sudden desire. He and Davie’d talked about this, how Mitchell seemed to be quite responsive - and even an enthusiastic instigator - of the good natured flirting that happened in tournaments. How sometimes they could feel their teammate’s eyes linger just a little too long when one of them would walk past. How Max had rather blatantly informed them one day that he thought Mitchell had the hots for one or possibly both of them.

Had it been anyone else who’d brought it up, Niklas would have dismissed it, but it was _Max_ , and if anyone could pick up on these things, it was the flirtatious and hyper-sexual Schalker. They’d talked about it afterwards, what they would do if the opportunity ever rose to invite Mitchell into their games, but then they’d dismissed the idea because the defender seemed to be quite friendly with everybody.

But now…

Davie turns his torso but presses into him at the same time, pressing their groins into each other again. Niklas drops his head back against the wall, letting an obscene moan leave his mouth. It’s overdone and mildly exhibitionist, but it gets the reaction that Niklas was almost expecting: Mitchell gasping in response.

Davie turns back to him so that they can make out again as though their teammate isn’t even there. When they break apart, Davie grins triumphantly at him, and Niklas almost laughs in delight. Instead, he tips his head to the side so that he can look Mitchell straight in the eye. “You’ve got ten seconds to decide, Weiser. You can leave or get over here; either way, we’re starting without you.”

Niklas has his hands shoved into the back of Davie’s pants again and his mouth lathing Davie’s throat when he feels tentative fingers brush against his, moving around to climb up in under Davie’s shirt. Niklas grins, nipping lightly onto Davie’s neck.

They were winners tonight in more ways that one, that’s for sure…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship name, ship name? Stalke? Who knows!


	10. There's definitely some of that! (Steno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Steno flooffiness, supportive (*cough*) teammates, and Julian Brandt who is completely done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr request by anon, set during the Confed Cup win celebrations, and partially inspired by the goalies picture that both [Kevin](https://www.instagram.com/p/BWE8RcyF57K/?taken-by=kevintrapp&hl=en) and [Marc-André](https://www.instagram.com/p/BWFSXkQh93_/?hl=en) posted.

“For someone who’s just won an international trophy, you don’t look happy.”

Julian Brandt turns around to scowl at a grinning Jonas and Shkodran. “I’m waiting for the family meeting to be over so we can have a club photo.”

Jonas and Shkodran look to where Julian is pointing, noticing that the three goalkeepers are huddled around their coach like ducklings, while Andy seems to be giving them a speech.

“Just get one later,” Shkodran suggests, “they look busy.”

“Do you know how hard it is to get all of us in the same space at the same time? There’s always something else. It shouldn’t be this hard; there’s only three of us for God’s sake!”

Benjamin bounces over to them like a kangaroo, beer bottle in one hand. “Jule, come on! I thought we were doing this?”

“I’m  _trying_.”

“Bernd looks pretty cosy over with the other keepers; you might have to wait a while,”  Shkodran tells him.

Julian rolls his eyes at the way the defender says the word “cosy”. “We’ll wait, it shouldn’t take much longer.”

It’s only a couple more minutes when the little goalkeepers’ huddle eventually finishes, and someone offers to take their photos. Kevin siddles up to their coach, holding the trophy out, and Andy grins, his left hand on the trophy even as he throws his right arm over Kevin’s shoulders. Shrugging, Marc hooks his arm around Bernd’s waist, tugging him a little closer. Bernd leans into the Barcelona keeper, his own arm thrown around Marc’s shoulders as they grin for the camera.

“Aww,” Jonas coos, “that’s so adorable.”

“Kevin did that on purpose, I bet,” Benjamin laughs.

“Andy too,” Shkodran adds. “It’s almost like him and Kevin were thinking the same thing - did you see how fast they moved towards each other? Marc and Bernd didn’t stand a chance.”

Jonas laughs even more. “Andy turning into a match-maker? I bet he’s just high from the win; he’s gonna go back to being done with those two at the next break.”

“I rather like them like this,” Shkodran smiles. “It’s a nice change from the old days of hate sex and bickering.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure there’s gonna be sex involved,” Benjamin says, waving his hand up and down at the keepers who are still standing shoulder-to-shoulder. “In between all that sappy bullshit, there’s sex in there.”

Julian pretends to gag. “Benny, stop it! How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t wanna know.  _Lah lah lah_ , I can’t hear you!”

“You should be happy they haven’t snuck off yet,” Shkodran points out. “Which is a miracle considering we’re already missing a few.”

Jonas makes a face. “Ugh, I better tell Yann-Benjamin not to go into any of the physio rooms for now - they’re probably going to be  _occupied_.”

“LAH LAH LAH I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Julian yells, hands over his ears.

His childish behaviour makes whoever’s left look their way, including all the goalkeepers and the coaches.

“Everything alright?” Jogi asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s perfect, coach,” Julian replies, blushing.

Jogi just smiles knowingly, eyes crinkling as he meets Andy’s eyes and the goalkeeping coach winks back. Behind them, Thomas Schneider and Miro laugh. Julian blushes some more.

But then Antonio starts another round of  _die nummer eins_  and everyone joins in, even the goalkeepers. Bernd finally jumps over to join them, singing loudly and off tune.

“Come on, grumpy!” Benjamin laughs; he and Bernd hook their arms around Julian’s neck and drag the midfielder into the center of the change room. “We have some celebrating to do!”


	11. That familiar feeling (Krametzka, implied Steno, Ju&Jo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon makes a realisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the Confed cup win.

“Earth to Leon.”

Leon blinks, then turns back to his computer; Christoph is watching him with a concerned look on his face. He really needs to pay better attention. It’s the first proper talk he and Christoph have had since the tournament started and here he is, spacing out. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Nothing important. You seemed so far away,” Christoph says gently.

Leon sighs, running his hand through his curls. “Yeah, sorry babe; it’s...” He doesn’t know, really. “Tired, I guess.”

“I getcha, but it seems like there’s something else. You wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what it is,” he admits, “just a feeling about one of the guys. Like it’s right there, but I can’t grasp it.”

“Good or bad?”

“A little bit of both, I guess. I mean, I’m not even sure, but I think...”

There’s a pause as Leon tries to get his thoughts together, wishing he could be clearer. “I only just noticed it, even if it’s probably been there since the beginning of the tournament,” he tries again. “I kinda feel like a bad friend for only getting it now.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Christoph admonishes him. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as you think. And whoever it is, I’m pretty sure they’ll think you’re a good friend for even noticing it in the first place - especially if they’ve managed to hide it from everyone else the whole time.”

Something warm uncurls in Leon’s stomach, and not for the first time, he misses Christoph something fiercely. “I think he’s been pining this whole time; and that’s why he’s been hanging around me and Jo so much. Kinda like kindred spirits.”

“Pining? Really? Can I ask who?”

“Jule.”

Christoph blinks in surprise. “Jule Brandt? I didn’t realise he was with anyone.”

“Me neither, which is what I meant about only getting it now.”

“What finally tipped you off?” Christoph asks, curious.

“Jule gets the same look on his face that Jo does when he’s obviously thinking about Ju and thinks no-one’s looking. They look like they’re looking around for someone they expect to be there but isn’t. Like they’re missing something and they don’t know what how to handle it.”

Leon looks down, wondering how it had taken him this long to notice the wistful way Julian would look at Bernd and Marc sometimes despite the two goalkeepers’ constant bickering, how Julian and Joshua had spent so much time together. Maybe he was right; he, Joshua and Julian had a lot in common throughout the tournament, it seemed. 

A smile curls on his lips as he looks back at Christoph who is watching him with a fond expression on his face. “Jule looks like he misses someone the way I do when you’re not around. Like it hurts to be alone. I can relate to that.”


	12. Goalkeepers, unite! (Steno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A goalkeepers' bonding moment. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr repost, set during the Confed cup

Kevin comes into the change room with scowl on his face, which is so different to his normally cheerful face that Marc-André has to ask, “Is something wrong Kev?”

The other keeper frowns some more. “Someone put glitter in my shower gel, and it’s kinda stuck.”

Kevin holds his hands out, and sure enough, he’s sparkling. Even his face looks like he’s had glitter make up put on him.

“I need to get some of that for my niece,” Bernd murmurs.

Marc throws a towel at the Leverkusen keeper’s head. 

“What the fuck, ter Stegen!” Bernd hisses, tugging the towel off his head and flipping it back at Marc.

“That’s not the point, idiot.” Marc scowls, throwing the towel at Bernd’s head again. “Kevin’s asking for help, and you’re not helping!”

“Geez, it was just a comment! What’s got your undies in a twist? I don’t see Kevin complaining, why are you?”

“Kevin’s too polite - and you should be more helpful.”

“Ahhh….” Kevin starts slowly backing away, hands raised defensively. “Look, it’s not a big deal, I’ll just go over and ask Jule, he’ll know… Yeah, that’s a good idea, I’ll ask Jule… see you guys in a bit…”

When Kevin’s run away from them, Bernd turns to Marc. “The hell was that about?” 

“You have glitter on your face, too, and he would have noticed; you didn’t want Kev to figure out it was us, did you?”

“It’s so hard to take out,” Bernd complains, “and I’ve tried to wash it off three times already.”

“Just try not to get too close to him during training.” They make their way out on to the pitch for the morning warm up sessions. “Did you manage to steal Jo’s pass?”

“Yeah, and I checked, his luggage is unlocked so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Good. I’ll do it during the break after lunch; just keep him distracted then I’ll give you the pass back.”

“Sure thing,” Bernd nods, handing over Joshua’s room pass.

Marc squeezes Bernd’s wrist momentarily, before they separate, Marc joining Shkodran while Bernd goes to his usual space with Jule Brandt.


	13. Second first chance (Neumer, Krametzka)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One door closed on love leads Christoph to the true love of his life

Christoph is frustrated. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand why they don’t understand. Was it a rule somewhere in the universe that he didn’t know about that said you were only allowed to have one love in your life?

Okay he sees how his feelings for Manuel could be considered a stereotypical hero-worship-turned-infatuation-turned-genuinely being in love, but that didn’t make it any less valid. Manuel was easy to love; he wasn’t the first person to fall and probably wouldn’t be the last person either, and he had no regrets.

Manuel had been sweet and understanding and so goddamned  _gallant_  that Christoph had wanted to bash his head against the wall. Had he been anyone else, Christoph would have admired how level-headed Manuel was being, but no, Christoph had wanted Manuel to take a chance on them, so at the time, he hadn’t really appreciated being gently let down like that.

Of course looking back now, Manuel had done the right thing, which surprisingly made Christoph fall for him even more. They were good friends now, very good friends, and Christoph wasn’t ashamed to say that he would probably always have romantic feelings for the keeper. He was also rather proud of the fact that Manuel had admitted that he would always be “the one that I let slip away”. 

So admittedly they had an unconventional relationship. What do you call two people who had mutual romantic feelings for each other but agreed that they wouldn’t act on them? Friends who mutually respected the other enough to want only the best for them.

But there are moments still that what Christoph feels for Manuel flares up and overwhelms him and he’s so incredibly grateful to the keeper for slowly letting him down all those years ago. Yes he still cares, but had Manuel not been so foresighted and wise, Christoph would have probably missed out on one of the best things that had ever happened to him. How could it be that he was so blind to what was always in front of him? It’s so cliché, but looking back, Christoph see the bleeding obvious, the truth, the constant.

Because before and after, through it all,  _always,_  there was Leon. The sweetest, most loyal and accepting best friend in the world, and Christoph would have probably forgotten just how much he appreciated his best friend. More than his best friend if he was being honest. 

Unlike his relationship with Manuel, Christoph had never felt the need to constantly prove that he was worthy of Leon’s regard, because in a sense, they’d always been equals. He could count on one hand the number of people who made him feel so at ease, and most of those were his family. They were compatible in ways that most relationships only developed after years, but he and Leon had always had the natural, intimate relationship from their time in Bochum. And their friendship had survived them both leaving for new clubs; not just survived, but evolved and grown and here they were now.

It blows his mind, really, how close Christoph was to not having this, how discouraged Christoph had been after the Manuel letdown until the keeper had pointed out to him that there was someone out there more compatible for him if only he’d take the chance and see. And because it was Manuel, Christoph had done exactly that and never looked back.

He’d always adore Manuel, but  _this_ , this is what he treasured more than anything now; the quiet dinners every couple of weeks, the goodnight phone calls, the privilege of waking up in the morning sometimes with the sight of curls on the pillow next to him, the gently teasing and encouragement after a loss, the feeling of pride whenever Leon did something and was recognised for it.

And even as Christoph looks up at the call of his name and sees Leon walking towards him, even as the lanky midfielder wraps his arms around him in a crushing hug, even as Christoph takes an extra second or two to bury his nose in Leon’s neck and inhales, Christoph knows he’ll always love Manuel for giving him the chance to have this. 

Maybe he’ll send the keeper a bunch of flowers in thanks tomorrow.


	14. Kisses (Krametzka)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kisses are just special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two separate prompt fills for some _kisses_ prompts requests.

 

 

> _**Can't let you go, kiss.** _

Leon is trying, he really is, but today is just one of those days. 

“Okay, this time, I’m sure I’ve got everything!” he says, giving Christoph a kiss before grabbing his phone and wallet and shouldering his duffel.

Christoph cups Leon’s face with both hands and presses his lips to Leon’s forehead, then lips, then cheek. “Good luck. You’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” Leon sighs happily, pressing their foreheads together. He pecks Christoph lightly on the lips one last time before finally heading for the door. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Christoph calls just before Leon shuts the door. “Are you sure you packed your keys? Don’t forget I’m gonna be gone when you get back so you can’t lock yourself out again!” 

Leon pats his pockets. “Ugh, no?” 

Christoph kisses him again whilst sticking the keys in the front pocket of Leon’s duffel. “What would you do without me?”

“I have no idea!” Leon kisses him in thanks. “Okay I better go before I decide I’d rather stay home and spend the day kissing you instead.”

Christoph laughs heartily, then pulls Leon closer to him with a hand to the back of the neck, giving Leon a lingering, bruising kiss. “Go! Before I agree with you and we don’t make it to work.”

“Love you,” Leon whispers with one last peck on the lips, “gotta go.”

* * *

 

 

> **_Early morning kiss_ **

When the alarm goes off, Christoph tries not to throw his phone across the room, but instead hits ‘snooze’ then snuggles deeper into Leon’s curls. 

Leon makes a contented, sleepy sound, and Christoph nuzzles against the corner of Leon’s mouth. It’s not quite a kiss, just a faint press of lips to lips, because they’ve just woken up and hey, morning breath is real. Besides, it’s not the sensuality of kissing that Chris is aiming for, just the contact, the closeness.

Leon, eyes still closed, angles his head ever so slightly so that their lips rub against each other, before leaning his cheek against Christoph’s head. They rest like this for a few more minutes before the alarm goes off again.

“Ngugh,” Leon says incoherently, making Christoph chuckle.

“Time to get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Leon mumbles, turning on to his stomach and burying his face in the pillow.

Christoph wraps his arm around Leon’s waist and nuzzles into the skin where Leon’s neck meets his shoulder, peppering the junction there with kisses. Leon makes happy little noises.

“C’mon, get up,” Christoph says, pulling away. “I’ll make coffee.”

“Love you,” Leon mumbles, lifting his head high enough to squint at him with one eye.

Christoph chuckles again, then bends down for a quick kiss; he’s aiming for the corner of Leon’s mouth again but Leon puckers his lips and Christoph touches their lips together instead. “Five minutes,” he says, before rolling out of bed and heading for the kitchen.


	15. Intervention (RobCal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr repost based on some ridiculous posts by Calum and Rob

“This is an intervention,” Per announces dramatically.

Rob looks up from where he’s throwing popcorn at Calum (and videoing of course, because this was so going on his Insta moments) who is trying to catch them in his mouth. The last popcorn bounces off Calum’s chin, who makes a disappointed noise because his winning streak is now broken.

“Er, okay?” Rob asks, wondering how the big  ~~fucking German~~  friendly giant of a captain got into their house. 

Per looks around the living room where there’s popcorn scattered around, raising his eyebrows at them when he notices that their in their boxers and sleepwear at such an early time. Rob blushes and Calum sits up straighter.

“Look,” Per starts, deciding to plough on. “I personally like that you guys get along like a house on fire. This whole living together thing” - he waves his hand between them - “is great for showing team bonding, but we don’t really need to know  _everything_  that happens in your house.”

“Okay?” Calum says while Rob mutters “we don’t post about  _everything_ ” under his breath.

“Meaning, no more spamming the group chat.”

Rob mumbles “okay” but thinks “he didn’t say we couldn’t post on Instagram”.

Per squints at Calum. “You know eating all that sugary cereal isn’t good for you?”

Calum opens his mouth, then quickly shuts it again.

“And why do you need to dye your beard?” the captain continues. “It’s not like you’re going grey yet. Unless of course you’re not a  _natural_  brunet?”

Calum glares at Rob (who’s choking back his laughter) and starts throwing some of the scattered popcorn at him. “I hate you so much! Why did you have to tell everyone about that.”

“It was meant to just be for laughs!” Rob protests when Calum starts throwing the throw pillows at him. 

“Everyone’s been teasing me!” Calum whines. “And it’s all your fault! I hate you!”

“Cal, come on! Ouch! That hurt!” Rob cries when a house slipper hits him on the head. “I’m sorry okay! Ouch! I promise I won’t do that again - hey! That was my favourite stress ball! Cal! I’m sorry already!”

Rob’s so busy dodging everything that Calum’s throwing at him that he doesn’t realise Per is still trying to talk to them.

“What?” Rob asks once Calum takes a break from trying to brain him.

“Honestly.  _Puppies_. Same everywhere.” Per looks between them a couple of times, then sighs. “Never mind. Just, just. Carry on, I guess.”

Rob squints at the tall German, wondering if there’s something wrong with their captain, but can’t see anything out of the ordinary. He gives Calum a questioning look but his friend just shrugs.

“Okay we’ll- Woah! Where did he go?”

Per is no longer in their living room, having disappeared just as suddenly as he came.

“That was freaky,” Rob mumbles.

“Tell me about it,” Calum agrees. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds before Calum says, “Rob, go make me a smoothie. You hurt my feelings now you have to make it up to me.”

Rob rolls his eyes, but gets up to go to the kitchen anyway, but not before calling back “but you have to hoover up the popcorn!”

He gets a yelled “I hate you so much!” in return.


	16. It's supposed to be easy (Neumer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling a friend is supposed to be easy, but Manuel is learning that sometimes it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt:
> 
> "Something about Manu being frustrated at not being called up, texting with Benni. Benni says yeah, sucks, sorry though, I'm quite busy at the moment, learning Italian etc.. Then he quickly tells him about being on that TV show with Chris a few days ago and Manu gets all Oh. So how's he...? Bene, yeah, no, sorry, gotta go. He's really good I think? Why not just text *him* if you want to know?"

Okay, of all the things that Manuel expected Benedikt - his supposed best friend - to say, “I’m busy, ask him yourself” was not one of them.

Manuel tries not to huff. “I was just  _asking_.”

Benedikt sighs and Manuel knows that the defender can tell that Manuel’s pouting despite them not even video calling. “I don’t see why it’s always so hard for you to do something as simple as picking up the phone to  _call a friend_ , Manu. What have you got to lose?”

Well, nothing really. It’s just that it’s been so long since they’d talked, let alone seen each other, and despite being an unmovable force on the pitch, Manuel was naturally shy in person. And Benedikt - his supposed best friend - knows this. Knows that sometimes Manuel gets tongue-tied around people -

( _Only around people you have a crush on!_  His brain - that sounds suspiciously like a mini-Benedikt for some reason - contradicts him unhelpfully.)

\- and it isn’t always so easy to just call a friend.

“It’s not that,” Manuel tries again, but Benedikt just sighs louder.

“Manu, Manu. Manumanumanu.  _Maaaa-nuuuuuuu_. It is  _exactly_  that. I know it you, you know it, even Lisa knows it.”

“He’s right, Manu!” Lisa calls in the background, and Manuel scowls because Lisa had always been so supportive and understanding of his shyness in the past, but now he’s going to have to demote her to  _ex_ -best friend-in-law.

“Why are you two like this?” Manuel whines. He’s not going to bother pretending that’s not what he’s doing; it’s Benedikt and Lisa, they’ve seen him at his most childish.

“Like what? Encouraging? Supportive? Trying to give you a little push in the right direction because you can’t seem to motivate yourself to pick up the phone and call Chris? What are you afraid of, anyway? Chris doesn’t bite, you know.” A pause, then, “Unless you want him to. If you ask nicely, I’m sure he’ll at least consider it.”

Manuel makes a gurgling noise; he can feel his face heating up suddenly. “That’s. Not. What. Even?”

Benedikt chuckles. “Call Chris, Manu. I promise, you won’t regret it. At the very least it will just be you talking to a friend.”

“It’s not that easy,” Manuel says softly after a few seconds. “It’s been a long time since we actually  _talk_ -talked, you know?”

“I know,” Benedikt agrees gently, back to being the understanding best friend.. “So you shouldn’t waste more time  _not_  talking to him. Don’t drag it out too long; you don’t know what you’ll be missing unless you try.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. Look, I’m sorry but I really have to go. But we’ll see you soon. Try to rest that foot up. I want to see you when we kick your ass in the champions league knock-out rounds, okay?”

“You wish,” Manuel laughs.

It takes him ten minutes to get the nerve to finally scroll through his phone and call Christoph, he’s nervously wiping his hands on his jeans and bouncing his knee as he waits for the call to connect.

The phone rings twice, then, “Hey!”

“Hey Chris! Hi!” Manuel says breathlessly, words spilling out. “It’s Manu! How are-”

“I can’t get to the phone right now - oops!” Manuel facepalms when he realises that he’d been babbling to Christoph’s voicemail; how could he have forgotten about the adorably dorky recording? Ugh. “ - but if you leave a message, I’ll call you back! Bye!” Beep.

“Hi!” Manuel manages to croak out. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey Chris, it’s uh, it’s Manu. Just wanting to say hi and how you doing and uh, hope you’re doing well?”

(For fuck’s sake, when did it become so hard to leave a voicemail?)

“I uh, was talking to Bene and he mentioned the interview you did together and uh, it made me think that we haven’t talked in a while. So um, just wanted to say hi? And uh, I’ll be visiting my foundation next month, so if you’re free, would love to hang out.”

(Hang out?? What were they? Fifteen?? Really??)

“But let me know. Yeah. Chat soon. Bye!”

Manuel hangs up the phone and drops his head onto the table. He was such a disaster. Benedikt was right, why was it so hard to call Christoph? He never had this problem before.

_Well that’s not true_ , his inner mini-Benedikt contradicts yet again.  _It became a problem after you realised how cute he was. Right after Brazil. When you started going through the dozens of photos and selfies on your phone. Especially the celebration ones in Berlin. Yeah… remember those?_

His brain then proceeds to feed him with images of him hanging out with Christoph, playing pool with Christoph, playing  _in_  the pool with Christoph, celebrating with Christoph, cuddles with Christoph, sharing a meal with Christoph, arms wrapped around Christoph. Christoph this, and Christoph that, and oh, how handsome did he look at the movie premier?

Manuel facepalms. Why was his brain like this. Why is it whenever he needed an inner pep talk all he got was a brain that kept reminding him of all those moments he didn’t know how to handle?

He’s just about to start smacking his head against the table just to stop the distracting images, when his phone starts ringing. Manuel fumbles the phone when he sees who’s calling, then somehow manages to finally to press the green button.

_You can do this; we’ve got this_ , his inner mini-Benedikt encourages him for once.

“Hello?” Manuel says only slightly breathless.

“Hey Manu, it’s Chris,” Christoph says.

“Hey Chris!” Gawd, how did he manage to not sound so eager?

“I got your voicemail; I’m so sorry I missed it, but I’m glad you called! I was just thinking about you.”

Manuel’s brain shorts for a moment at Christoph’s words.

_Oh!_  His inner mini-Benedikt gasps.  _We so don’t got this._

Manuel can only agree.


	17. Unmissable things (RobCal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's oblivious, then there's Rob & Cal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon tumblr request

“Honestly, this getting more pathetic by the day.”

Alex squints at Hector, then in the general direction of the stage where Robert and Callum are singing an enthusiastic version of _I don’t want to miss a thing_ by Aerosmith.

“I dunno,” Alex says, “Rob’s got a pretty decent voice.”

Hector rolls his eyes at him. “I meant _they’re_ getting more pathetic, not the singing. They’re not drunk enough to be singing that badly yet.”

“I think it’s quite romantic,” Santi says. “There’s nothing like a good serenade to get someone to fall in love with you.”

This time Hector rolls his eyes at the Spanish midfielder. “Is that what you think is happening, Santi? Because I really really don’t think either of them planned this.”

_I don’t wanna miss a thaaaaaaaaang_ , Robert and Callum sing into their microphones while staring into each other’s eyes, then promptly start giggling.

Per cringes a little at the duo, then shrugs. “It may not be planned, but I agree with Santi; they’re definitely singing at each.”

“That’s what I mean - they’re not even hiding it!” Hector cries, throwing his hands up in the air. “It’s so fucking obvious we’re going to get infested with mice at the cheesiness.”

“I don’t think either of them are doing it on purpose, you know.”

“I know! They’re so oblivious my dentist is starting to complain about me grinding my teeth together from not saying anything!”

“It’s sweet,” Santi says, elbowing Hector. “Leave them alone.”

_Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we’re to-geeeeeeee-ther_

“O my god,” Alex mumbles excitedly, finally unable to resist taking his phone out.

_I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever_

Robert and Callum take turns singing _forever_ and _ever_ before throwing their arms around each other and swaying from side to side.

_I don’t wanna close my eyes_

The other Arsenal players start cheering and Per and Santi whistle as well.

“This is horrible,” Hector mutters, shaking his head and insisting on being a wet blanket about the whole thing.

_I just want to be here with you right here with you, just like this_

“It’s like a train wreck,” Alex agrees enthusiastically. “I can’t look away.”

By the time the song builds up to the chorus again, Robert and Callum have managed to rope everyone into singing with them, sharing one microphone and literally holding each other close as they sing together.

_I don’t wanna fall asleep, ‘cause I’d miss you baby_

“Ugh, I can feel myself getting diabetes from the sweetness,” Hector mumbles.

“Don’t be a killjoy,” Per scowls at Hector. “They’re young and in love and whether or not they realise it yet, they’re happy; don’t ruin it all by being a grump.”

“Besides,” Alex adds, “after I show them this, there’s no way in hell they’ll miss this thing they have going.”

Even Santi and Per roll their eyes at the bad pun. Alex shrugs, then joins in the last part of the chorus with everyone else.

_I don’t wanna miss a thang_


	18. Like an old married couple (RobCal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calum gets some relationship advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **[Yyydelilah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yyydelilah/pseuds/Yyydelilah)** , who sent me [this hilarious video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IWUzUR_CBA&feature=youtu.be&t=3m17s) (that you definitely need to watch if you want more RobCal adorableness).

There’s complete and utter silence as Robert storms out of the change room and the door slams shut. For a few seconds, no-one says anything, then Laurent walks up to Calum and slaps the young defender on the back of his head.

“Youch! What was that for?” Calum complains.

“You know why,” Laurent says. “You should never speak to your husband like that!”

“My  _what?_ ”

“Lolo’s right,” Aaron says from across the room. “That was mean.”

“We were joking around! He knows that!”

“Husbands and wives need to listen to each other, and Rob told you to stop but you kept going. That’s just disrespectful, dude.”

“ _What_  and  _what,_  now?”

“You need to apologise,” Per adds. “Before he gets mad enough to make you sleep on the couch.”

“I have my own room! Why would I sleep on the couch?!”

“You’re still in the honey moon period, he’ll forgive you,” Santi says sympathetically. “You should bring flowers though. And dinner. There’s nothing like a romantic home-cooked dinner to say sorry.”

“I cook dinner nearly every night anyways!”

“Don’t forget chocolates,” Alex pipes in, “everyone loves chocolates.”

“There’s four blocks in our pantry we haven’t eaten yet!”

“Then you should be forgiven pretty easily,” Per says. The captain blinks at Calum for a few seconds, then squints. “Go on then, what are you waiting for?”

Calum stares at his captain, then at his other teammates who are looking at him expectantly. He, if he’s honest with himself, knows that he probably did go a little too far with teasing his flatmate, but he and Robert were like that all the time. Calum already knows how this is going to play out: Robert will sulk for a couple of days, Calum will do something to make Robert laugh, then they’ll rough and tumble for a bit and everything will be okay again. 

But. But Calum also gets why they’re worried about this little spat; team chemistry is important after all. Despite the fact that the other players have obviously misunderstood his and Robert's relationship, he's going to be an adult and say sorry.

“I’ll apologise,” he sighs eventually.

“Good,” Per claps him on the shoulder in approval. “All else fails, we’ll look for a good marriage counsellor for you.”

Calum groans in resignation. _For fuck’s sake._

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Hömmels  
> 2\. Steno, Götzeus, implied Samisut, Hömmels, Ju&Jo  
> 3\. Paulo Dybala x OC  
> 4\. Steno  
> 5\. implied Götzeus  
> 6\. implied Krametzka  
> 7\. Steno  
> 8\. Krametzka  
> 9\. Stark/Selke, implied Starke/Selke/Weiser  
> 10\. Steno  
> 11\. Krametzka, implied Steno, Ju&Jo  
> 12\. Steno  
> 13\. Neumer, Krametzka  
> 14\. Krametzka  
> 15\. RobCal  
> 16\. Neumer  
> 17\. RobCal  
> 18\. RobCal  
> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


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